


I Wouldn't Leave You If You'd Let Me

by clarkesbellmy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbellmy/pseuds/clarkesbellmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy considered not opening his eyes for the fear that she wouldn’t actually be there.</p><p>He did.</p><p>She was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wouldn't Leave You If You'd Let Me

**Author's Note:**

> soooo yeah this started as a harmless little au gifset (link in profile) and then this happened and I'm just...I'm sorry

Clarke looked around at the stark coldness of the room with trembling hands. She had never seen anything so... _clean_. Even on the Ark, everything was shrouded in muted colours and fading greys. Nothing at all like the sheer whiteness currently staring back at her.

She was startled out of her observations by movement in the corner of her eye. Someone was outside the window.

Running up to the door, Clarke only paused momentarily -surprised by the odd blue suit the person was wearing- before pounding on the glass.

"Where am I?!" She bellowed. "Hey! Where the hell are my people?!"

The rubber suited figure ignored her until they left, disregarding Clarke's frantic attack of the window (that is, if they even heard her at all).

Growling in frustration she spun around and kicked the closest object to her right foot, which was unfortunately the wall. Letting out a yelp of pain, Clarke hobbled over to the lonely bed in the centre of the floor and waited.

* * *

Bellamy sat bolt upright so fast he almost fell off the bed by sheer force of gravity. He had been here for two days but every morning began the same way; with all encompassing panic.

They had finally let him out of that god forsaken sterile prison last night but he still didn't have any answers. All he could seem to gather was that he was "safe" here -he scoffed at that- and that Clarke was somewhere in the building.

He wasn't permitted to see her and after the unfortunate incident involving a nurse, a food tray and a stethoscope, two guards had been assigned to him at all times.

Looking up in resignation as his door opened, Bellamy prepared himself for another day of isolation and no answers.

* * *

Clarke didn't even bother turning her head when she heard the door open, no one ever spoke to her anyways. But when she heard a familiar gruff cough, she slowly raised her eyes to the intruder.

It wasn't an intruder.

"Bellamy?" Clarke breathed.

He looked hollow and raw but Clarke had honestly never seen a more beautiful sight in her life.

"They sent me to get you," he said by way of greeting, and by his lowered eyebrows and hard stare she knew he despised them.

"Thought a familiar face might help," he finished lamely.

Clarke walked towards him slowly, as though giving him a chance to simply disappear in case this was some strange hallucination her subconscious had created to mask the loneliness and fear she felt. But when she reached his side and he was still there she flung her arms around his neck.

"What the hell is going on?" She spoke into his skin, breathing him in.

She felt Bellamy's arms squeeze her in return before he pulled back enough to look behind him. At the security camera, Clarke thought, until she noticed the guards posted outside her door.

He looked back at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"We're in Mt. Weather."

* * *

Bellamy watched Clarke's face as he told her everything he knew of their situation. The small frowns and slight eyebrow raises whenever she heard something she disliked or didn't believe (which was often).

The "President" had paid them a visit after their winding trek to the dorms Bellamy was staying in and had relieved the guards, but Bellamy still watched his tongue.

"Where is everybody else?" She asked suddenly.

He looked down at her, sitting on a bed that looked long forgotten and cold, still in her pristine white quarantine clothes, and sighed.

"I don't know."

* * *

"They're hiding something."

It had been three days since she'd woken up, five days since they'd been there, and Clarke was scared.

As a logical person, -the head, some may call her- Clarke did not like the unknown. The unknown, to her, was possibly the most terrifying thing one could face. Unfortunately, the unknown surrounded her. She breathed it in, dressed in it, ate it, spoke to it. She lived it.

Bellamy was nodding his head.

"We need to find out a way out of here, Princess."

It was funny, how the one thing that had never failed to bother her, was now her only source of serenity. It was hardly unknown that Bellamy favoured that nickname of his. Somehow, Clarke didn't mind it so much anymore.

* * *

They had a plan.

Scratch that. They had a _bad_ plan.

The Mountain Men had been giving their "guests" more freedom and Bellamy and Clarke had been presented with a few short opportunities to scope the place out.

Now he was sitting in the empty dorm staring at his hands. Bellamy thought he would never be lonelier than when he had lived in his empty apartment on the Ark with the ghost of his mother by his side and his sister's laugh still echoing off the walls.

He was wrong.

The dorm was large, meant for people -children- to be living in, and being the only one in the shadows, glancing at threadbare blankets and dust covered bed frames, Bellamy felt truly alone.

Looking up at the sound of a heavy metal door he saw Clarke.

_Clarke._

She was his constant. If Bellamy was lonely, she always found him.

She was his anchor. If Bellamy was uncertain, she was there to guide him.

She was his star. If Bellamy was drowning in the darkness, she would take his hand and leave a sparkling trail behind her until she had pulled him back into the light.

No one but Octavia had ever been those things for him.

So when he looked up with an unspoken question in his eyes and she nodded yes. Sharp and quick. Bellamy knew he was ready for anything.

* * *

She was running.

Faster and faster and _running_.

Clarke clutched the stolen radio in her hand tight enough to slice her fingers on the rough edges.

"Bellamy!" She yelled.

Once again she was greeted by static and laboured breathing.

As she was weaving through white walls and machines that did god knows what she heard her radio spark to life again.

"CLARKE," she almost ran into a wall in her surprise.

"RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!"

Hell. _No_.

Bellamy was something else if he thought she was just going to up and leave him because he _said so_. He knew her better than that.

Turning on her heel, Clarke thundered back the way she came.

"I'M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!" She screamed right before the radio went silent.

* * *

He didn’t know where he was, all he knew was he was burning.

His skin was on fire and his hair was plastered to his skull.

Slowly, sounds came back to him. Metal on metal and spraying water.

Sight came next. Darkness and dust.

He could barely breathe, the restraint on his neck was just tight enough to leave discomfort but allow air to flow raggedly from his lungs. And there were people, people shouting at him, asking questions he couldn’t understand.

_Were you working alone?_

“Yes!” Bellamy choked out. “It was all my idea! Clarke didn’t know, please!”

He could only hope they believed him when they dragged him off and tossed him into a cage.

* * *

Clarke wasn’t stupid, she was being watched. They obviously suspected her of working with Bellamy but didn’t have proof.

_Bellamy…_

It had been hours but Clarke didn’t dare go asking about him. All she had was her hope that he was alive.

 _He had to be alive,_ she chastised herself. If Bellamy was dead...well, she didn’t want to think about that.

Her only guess was that he was back in the quarantine ward. Which was unfortunately heavily guarded.

 _Med Bay it is, then…_ Clarke thought.

She looked down at the bandage on her arm, the result of her first encounter in the white room and grimaced.

“I’m gonna find you, Bellamy…” She whispered as she approached one of the abandoned metal bed frames.

She peeled the bandage off and had one last moment to steal herself before blinding pain shot up her arm. Intentionally hurting herself was something Clarke had never done, and even though she had sustained the same injury just days before, it hurt much worse when she did it herself.

The last thing she thought as she blacked out was that she hoped they’d find her before she bled out on the floor.

* * *

Clarke woke up in the Med Bay with a scratchy blanket against her legs and a new bandage on her skin. She was mercifully alone.

Moving quickly she flung off the bedspread and spang to her feet, ignoring the slight dizziness at the back of her head. There was only one other person in there and he seemed to be out cold while he was getting a blood transplant...from the _wall?_

Clarke had seen a lot of things but this was definitely new.

Upon closer inspection she realized it was actually a small pipe, so like any sane person (or at least, that’s what she liked to tell herself) she followed it until it disappeared behind an air vent.

Not your typical location for blood storage.

After a moment’s hesitation Clarke had reached up and started fidgeting with the opening.

* * *

Bellamy thought he heard a noise faintly in the background but honestly, he was probably hallucinating.

The cold bars of the too-small cage actually served as a relief where they pressed into his burning skin and he shut his eyes. Tuning out everything but the feeling of the hard metal against him.

He hoped Clarke was okay. _Prayed_ they had believed him. If Clarke was dead...well, he didn’t want to think about that.

And like a goddamn answer to his miserable prayers he heard an all too familiar gasp.

Bellamy considered not opening his eyes for the fear that she wouldn’t actually be there.

He did.

She was.

“...Bellamy?”

God, her voice was beautiful.

“C-Clarke?” He hated the stutter, the uncertainty in his voice when he spoke. Her name should be spoken with strength and assurance.

But she was rattling at the cage door and _she_ was the strength and assurance and suddenly Bellamy didn’t mind the weakness in his voice so much.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ve got you…”

And then she was pulling him out and her hands burned where they touched him and he wanted to kiss her so he did.

It wasn’t his finest moment. He could barely stand and his hands were shaking but she was here and alive and so simply _Clarke_.

He pulled back just enough to speak, leaning their foreheads together.

“I thought I told you to get out of here,” he breathed roughly.

Clarke smiled and he felt it stretch gently against his lips.

“I thought I told you I wasn’t leaving without you.”

And that was Clarke; Too stubborn for her own good. Too caring for it to matter. She encompassed goodness and he should of known she was coming for him, there’s nothing else she could have done. It would have gone against the very nature that was Clarke Griffin.

She would always find him.

He would always find her.

She belonged to him in all the best ways and he belonged to her in everything else. In the end, that is what would keep them together. You cannot live without your other half, your _better_ half, they are what makes you whole.

And once again, at least for a little while, they were both whole.


End file.
